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isacksteban · 6 months ago

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Cinnamon — Strollonso (2) (prev)

After hours of enduring his friends' teasing and half-hearted attempts at studying, Lance finally found an excuse to slip away. The air outside the study hall was cool and crisp, a welcome relief from the stuffy room. He shoved his hands into his MIT-branded jacket pockets and took a deep breath, his mind swirling with thoughts of Fernando — though they should've been swirling with thoughts of his meche final project due by the end of the month.

He hadn’t even made it halfway down the dimly lit corridor when he spotted him.

Fernando was leaned casually against the wall, phone in hand as his bag of teaching supplies at his feet, as though he’d been waiting there all along. His dark eyes sparkled with amusement when they locked on Lance.

“Studying hard?” Fernando asked, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down Lance’s spine.

Lance stopped in his tracks, his heart pounding. “You could say that.”

Fernando pushed off the wall, walking toward him with slow, deliberate steps. Lance’s pulse quickened with every step Fernando took. There was something about the way he moved — confident, sure of himself — that made it impossible to look away.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Lance murmured, his voice quieter than he intended. "I figured professors went home pretty early."

“I was hoping to run into you.” Fernando’s lips curved into a smirk. “Thought you might need a ride home.”

Lance blinked. “You… what?”

Fernando shrugged. “It’s late. Thought it might be safer.”

Safe. Lance swallowed hard. Nothing about being near Fernando felt safe — it felt exhilarating, electric, dangerous.

“I don’t think my dad would love that idea,” Lance said, though he didn’t make any move to decline the offer. Lawrence had known Fernando for decades — from their shared classes in university, from business dealings, from god knows where else. Lance could only imagine his father’s reaction if he found out his son was falling for the man he’d once called a friend.

But right now, Lance couldn’t bring himself to care.

Fernando chuckled, the sound warm and teasing. “Are you worried about what your father would say? Or are you worried about what you want?”

Lance bit his lip, his gaze flickering to Fernando’s mouth. “I don’t—”

“Come on, Lance.” Fernando said softly, tilting his head toward the door. “I’ll take you home.”

Lance hesitated for only a second before nodding. “Okay.”

They walked out into the night, and Lance found himself acutely aware of how close Fernando was — his arm brushing against Lance’s, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air. By the time they reached Fernando’s car — Fernando's white Mustang — Lance’s chest felt like it might explode.

As Fernando opened the passenger door for him, Lance paused. “Why are you doing this?”

Fernando leaned closer, his gaze locking onto Lance’s. “Because I care for my students, do you wish for me to have ulterior motives?”

Lance’s breath caught in his throat. The words hung between them, heavy with unspoken possibilities.

“Get in,” Fernando whispered.

Lance slid into the car, his heart pounding like a drumbeat in his ears. Fernando circled around to the driver’s side, and as he started the engine, Lance couldn’t tear his eyes away from him.

The drive was quiet, the tension between them palpable. Lance’s fingers curled into fists on his lap, his mind racing with everything he wanted to say — everything he wanted to do.

When Fernando finally pulled up outside the Strulovich home, neither of them moved to get out.

“Lance,” Fernando said softly, his voice laced with something vulnerable.

Lance turned to him, his heart hammering in his chest. “Yes, sir?”

Fernando’s gaze dropped to Lance’s lips. “I’m trying to be good.”

“Don’t,” Lance whispered, his voice barely audible.

That was all it took.

Fernando closed the distance between them, his hand cupping Lance’s cheek as he kissed him — slow, deliberate, and devastatingly gentle. Lance melted into the kiss, his hands tangling in Fernando’s hair as every thought about his father, about what was right or wrong, about what he believed was ethical, faded away.

All that mattered was this moment.

Fernando's lips moved against his with an aching softness, like he had all the time in the world. It wasn’t rushed or hurried, and that made it all the more overwhelming. Lance clung to him, fingers tightening in Fernando’s subtle curls, pulling him closer.

Fernando sighed into the kiss, his thumb stroking Lance’s cheekbone, grounding him. The world outside the car fell away — the late-night traffic, the shadows of the streetlights, the distant sound of footsteps on the sidewalk. None of it mattered.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard. Fernando’s forehead rested against Lance’s, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.

Silence settled over them again, but it was warm, comfortable. Lance traced the curve of Fernando’s jaw with his fingers, marveling at how natural this felt.

“I don’t know how we’re going to do this,” Lance admitted, his voice quiet. “My dad—”

"Lawrence doesn’t scare me,” Fernando interrupted, his tone firm but gentle. “This… you… it’s worth the risk.”

Lance’s chest tightened at those words. He’d spent so much of his life under his father’s shadow, constantly trying to live up to expectations. But with Fernando, everything felt different — he almost felt ridiculous but he couldn't help but be reassured by the older man's presence.

“I want this,” Lance whispered. “I don’t care what anyone says.”

Fernando smiled, leaning in to kiss him again — softer this time, more lingering. “Good.”

The sound of a car passing by broke the moment, and Lance pulled back, glancing out the window. His nerves prickled with the realization of where they were.

“Do you want to come inside?” Lance asked, his voice trembling slightly.

Fernando studied him for a long moment, his gaze intense. “Are you sure?”

Lance nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Fernando turned off the engine and got out of the car, waiting for Lance to join him on the sidewalk. As they walked toward the building, Lance’s hand brushed against Fernando’s. After a brief hesitation, Fernando took it, intertwining their fingers.

The gesture sent a thrill through Lance, but it also filled him with a strange sense of calm.

As they stepped inside the house, Lance couldn’t shake the feeling that he was standing on the edge of something life-changing.

Fernando glanced around the space, then turned to Lance, his expression softening. “You’re nervous.”

“A little.”

Fernando’s hands slid around Lance’s waist, pulling him close. “You don’t have to be.”

Lance looked up at him, his heart in his throat. “I’m not scared of you.”

Fernando’s eyes darkened with emotion. “Good.”

Fernando’s lips pressed softly against Lance’s, coaxing him into a kiss that felt both tender and consuming. Lance melted into it, his hands sliding up to grip Fernando’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Every thought, every doubt melted away under Fernando’s touch.

Without breaking the kiss, Fernando walked Lance backward, their steps slow and unsteady as they moved through the house. Lance’s fingers tangled in Fernando’s hair again, pulling him down deeper into the kiss, as if he couldn’t get enough.

They stumbled slightly near the stairs, Lance’s back hitting the wall with a soft thud. He let out a breathless laugh against Fernando’s lips, his cheeks flushed and eyes shining with something Fernando couldn’t quite put into words.

“You okay?” Fernando murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from Lance’s face.

“Yea, yeah.” Lance’s voice was soft, but there was a glint of mischief in his gaze. “I’m more than okay.” He felt a rush of adreneline risking everything like this.

Fernando smirked, leaning in to kiss him again, slower this time — more deliberate. His hands slid down Lance’s sides, anchoring him in place as he kissed him deeply, like he was savoring every second.

Lance let out a soft sigh, his fingers trailing down Fernando’s chest, tugging at the hem of his jacket. “Upstairs?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Fernando’s gaze flicked toward the staircase, then back to Lance. “Lead the way.”

Lance grabbed Fernando’s hand, lacing their fingers together as he guided him toward the stairs. Their footsteps were clumsy, their lips finding each other again and again as they moved. At the first step, Fernando pressed Lance against the railing, his hands on either side of him as he leaned in for another kiss — deeper, more urgent.

Lance let out a soft gasp, his head tilting back as Fernando’s lips trailed from his mouth to his jaw, then down his neck. His breath hitched, his hands fisting in Fernando’s shirt, pulling him closer.

“You’re gonna drive me crazy,” Lance murmured, his voice trembling.

Fernando chuckled against his skin. “Good.”

They stumbled up the stairs, laughter and soft gasps filling the air between kisses. Lance’s heart raced, his pulse thrumming in his ears as they reached the top of the staircase. By the time they made it to his bedroom door, his nerves had faded, replaced by a burning desire that left him breathless.

Lance pushed the door open, pulling Fernando inside. The room was dark, illuminated only by the soft glow of streetlights filtering through the curtains.

Fernando shut the door behind them, his gaze never leaving Lance. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low, almost reverent.

Lance nodded, stepping closer until they were chest to chest. His fingers brushed over Fernando’s cheek, lingering at his jaw. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

The moment the words left his lips, Fernando surged forward, capturing Lance in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was hungry, desperate — a kiss that spoke of everything they'd been holding back. Lance stumbled slightly, but Fernando caught him, his hands firm on Lance's hips as they moved together with reckless urgency.

Lance's back hit a wall — again — the force knocking a framed picture of Lance with his father at his bar mitzvah askew, but neither of them cared. Fernando's lips were on his neck now, his teeth grazing sensitive skin, making Lance gasp as he fisted his hands into Fernando's hair, pulling him even closer.

"Bed," Lance managed to gasp out between kisses, his voice shaky with need.

Fernando pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, the Canadian's lips swollen and both of them breathless. He nodded, grabbing Lance's hand and guiding him to the bed.

Lance laughed breathlessly as his legs hit the mattress, but Fernando didn't give him a chance to steady himself. He pushed Lance back onto the bed, following him down without hesitation, their bodies tangling together as they landed in a heap of limbs and laughter.

Lance reached for Fernando again, pulling him down into another kiss — messy, rushed, teeth clashing before they found their rhythm again. His hands slid under Fernando's shirt, desperate to feel skin against skin. Fernando groaned into the kiss, hurriedly undoing the buttons of his white top and shrugging it off.

Lance’s fingers trembled as they trailed over Fernando’s chest, savoring the warmth of his skin and the firm muscle beneath his touch. He let out a shaky breath, eyes flicking up to meet Fernando’s gaze. The intensity there made his heart race — dark, smoldering, full of desire and something deeper, something Lance couldn’t quite name.

Fernando leaned in, his lips brushing along Lance’s jaw, then down to his neck, leaving a trail of slow, deliberate kisses. Lance tilted his head to give him more access, his hands sliding down to grip Fernando’s waist, pulling him closer.

“God,” Lance whispered, his voice catching as Fernando nipped at his collarbone before soothing the spot with his tongue. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Good,” Fernando murmured against his skin, his accent thick, his voice low and rough. “Because you’ve been driving me insane since the moment I met you.”

Lance’s heart skipped at the confession, his fingers tightening their hold on Fernando. Their kisses grew slower, more deliberate, every touch electric. Fernando’s hands slid under Lance’s shirt, pushing it up, fingertips brushing over his ribs and making him shiver.

“Off,” Fernando whispered, tugging at the fabric.

Lance quickly complied, pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it aside. Fernando’s eyes raked over him, his gaze lingering on every inch of bare skin — though his eyes caught notice of the thin hebrew lettering just to the side of Lance's nipple. It made Lance’s cheeks flush, but he didn’t look away — couldn’t look away.

“You’re beautiful,” Fernando said softly, reverently, as if the words were a secret just for Lance.

Lance swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling with every breath. “So are you.”

Fernando smiled, his lips quirking up at the corners before he leaned in again, capturing Lance’s mouth in another kiss — deeper this time, slower. His hands wandered, exploring every curve and dip of Lance’s body, as if committing him to memory.

Lance arched into the touch, gasping when Fernando’s lips found his neck again, kissing and biting just enough to make him tremble. His fingers threaded through Fernando’s hair, tugging gently, earning a low groan that sent shivers down his spine.

Time seemed to blur — the only things Lance could focus on were Fernando’s touch, his warmth, and the way every kiss made him feel like he was falling, completely and utterly consumed by the man in front of him.

Lance’s fingers traced the lines of muscle on Fernando’s chest, marveling at the way his skin warmed under his touch. Fernando watched him with quiet intensity, his hands resting on Lance’s hips, thumbs stroking the exposed skin just above the waistband of his jeans.

"You’re staring," Lance whispered with a shy smile.

Fernando’s lips quirked into a smirk. "Can you blame me?"

Lance leaned down, pressing another kiss to Fernando’s lips — slow, lingering, full of unspoken emotions. He felt weightless, like the world outside didn’t exist. It was just them, tangled together in his bed, lost in each other.

Until the front door slammed.

"Lance? You home?"

Lance froze, his eyes wide with panic. "Shit. My dad!"

Fernando sat up quickly, steadying Lance with a firm grip on his waist. "Calm down."

"Calm down? Fernando, if he sees you —" Lance scrambled off the bed, grabbing his shirt and pulling it on in a hurry. "He’ll freak the hell out!"

"Language," Fernando stood, slipping on and buttoning his shirt with calm precision. "We’ll handle it."

"Handle it?" Lance hissed, pacing the room. "You’re my professor! He’s already skeptical about me bringing you up so much. If he sees you here —"

Fernando crossed the room in a few strides, placing a hand on Lance’s shoulder. "Trust me."

There was a knock at the door. "Lance? I heard you moving around. Are you okay?"

Lance swallowed hard, looking to Fernando, who gave him a reassuring nod before slipping into the closet. Lance took a deep breath and opened the door, forcing a smile.

"Hey, Dad. Yeah, I’m fine. Just… studying."

Lawrence raised an eyebrow. "Studying? You’ve never been this enthusiastic about your classes before."

Lance laughed nervously. "Business ethics is really… compelling."

Lawrence gave him a skeptical look before stepping inside, glancing around the room. "What’s that smell?"

Lance’s heart raced. "Uh… scented candle. Helps me focus."

Lawrence narrowed his eyes, clearly not buying it, but thankfully, he didn’t push further. "All right. Dinner’s in an hour. Don’t be late."

"Got it," Lance said quickly, ushering his dad out of the room.

The moment the door closed, Fernando stepped out of the closet, straightening his shirt. "That was close."

Lance groaned, collapsing onto the bed. "Too close."

Fernando chuckled, sitting beside him. "He’s gone. You’re fine."

Lance peeked up at him, still flushed. "What if he figures it out?"

Fernando leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Lance’s forehead. "I'll figure it out, I've got you Lancito."

Lance’s heart swelled at the words, and he couldn’t help but smile. "You really mean that?"

"I’ve already taken the risk. You’re worth it." Fernando’s eyes softened before he started up again, "Also, you've mentioned me to your father?"

"Nando I— Sir—" Lance stumbled over his words, obviously embarrassed at the topic being brought back up.

Fernando couldn’t help but smirk at Lance’s flustered state, watching with amusement as the younger man sat up, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to compose himself.

"You called me Nando," Fernando teased, his voice low and warm. "And Sir? Interesting combination."

Lance groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I can’t believe this is happening."

Fernando chuckled, reaching out to gently pull Lance’s hands away from his face. "Relax, Lancito. I’m only teasing."

"But my dad—" Lance started, his brows furrowed with concern.

Fernando shook his head, his expression calm and confident. "Your father doesn’t scare me."

Lance snorted. "He scares me."

Fernando laughed softly, his thumb brushing over Lance’s cheek. "That’s because you are his son. He wants the best for you."

Lance sighed, leaning into the touch. "Yeah, well, I don’t think he’d consider this the best for me."

Fernando’s gaze softened. "Maybe not at first. But he’ll see it eventually."

"You really believe that?" Lance asked, his voice quiet.

"I do." Fernando tilted Lance’s chin up, their eyes locking. "And even if he doesn’t, it doesn’t change how I feel."

Lance’s heart raced at the sincerity in Fernando’s gaze. "How do you feel?"

"I have an hour to show you."

Lance’s eyes widened, his breath hitching at Fernando’s words — he couldn't seem to breathe normally around Fernando. The boldness of the statement sent a shiver down his spine. His lips parted, but no sound came out.

Fernando smirked, leaning in to brush his lips against Lance’s ear. "Unless, of course, you’re too scared."

That was all it took.

Lance grabbed Fernando’s collar, pulling him into a heated kiss. It wasn’t cautious like before — this was urgent, desperate. They didn't have time to waste. Their mouths moved together in perfect rhythm, all their pent-up tension finally unleashed. Lance’s hands slid down Fernando’s chest, feeling the muscle beneath his shirt before tugging it off again.

Fernando’s hands roamed Lance’s body, finding their way under his shirt and tracing over every inch of his skin. "You’re so fucking perfect," he murmured between kisses, his voice husky.

Lance blushed but didn’t stop. "You’ve got an hour, right? Better not waste it."

Fernando chuckled, his teeth grazing Lance’s lower lip before gently pulling him toward the bed. "Oh, I won’t."

They stumbled onto the mattress, Lance straddling Fernando as their kisses deepened. Lance’s shirt joined Fernando’s on the floor, followed quickly by the rest of their clothes, until nothing was between them but heat and skin.

Fernando’s fingers trailed down Lance’s spine, making him shiver. "I want to remember every inch of you," Fernando whispered, his lips brushing over Lance’s jaw, down his neck, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake.

Lance’s head fell back, a soft moan escaping him. "Then don’t stop."

Fernando didn’t.

He traced every curve, every freckle, every scar with his lips and hands, committing Lance to memory. Lance’s hands tangled in Fernando’s hair, tugging gently as their bodies moved together, finding a rhythm that was all their own.

Time seemed to blur as they lost themselves in each other. The world outside didn’t matter — not Lawrence, not their risks, not the consequences. Just them.

Finally, as they lay tangled together in the sheets, their breathing steadying, Lance ran a hand over Fernando’s chest, tracing the tattoo that marked his forearm as the tattoo on his back stayed in the back of his mind.

"I can’t believe this is real," Lance murmured.

Fernando smiled, pressing a kiss to Lance’s temple. "It is. And it’s ours."

Lance nestled closer, resting his head on Fernando’s shoulder. "You’re staying?"

Fernando nodded. "For as long as you’ll have me."

Lance smiled against his skin. "Then don’t go."

"I’m not going anywhere." Fernando wrapped his arms around Lance, holding him close before pulling back again, "but you're going to eat with your father."

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